Love Against The Odds
by Saol-Alainn
Summary: Branson/Sybil fan fic. Tom's off to fight, with just one request from Sybil, but will she comply and what will happen whilst he's away? Formally: Love No Matter What
1. Chapter 1

_What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

Branson stand's their breathless, staring into the most beautiful eyes he has ever had the luxury to see, his heart is pounding so damn fast might as well just rip open his chest and expose it too her. His love this is. But, really, that is what he has just accomplished; he's laid his feeling down in front of her, his future, their future, know all he has to do is wait, it's agony.

''I'm terribly flattered'' That's all it takes for his heart to sink and hope's to die. Flattered? That's all he gets. Tom, shuffles uncomfortable, hating the vulnerable state he has put himself in and gives a weak smile.

''Don't say that.'' He could die right now, and not care, not one little bit, because everything he ever want's is in front of him right now, and she has denied his love.

''Why?'' It's almost a whisper.

''Because ''flattered'' - he almost spat the word - is a word posh people use when they're getting ready to say no.'' He couldn't look at her, she would see the weakness in his eyes. He was so stupid! She looked up at him, and laughed slightly. ''That sounds more like you.''

He took a sharp intake of breath, did she mean it to sound so patronising? He hated himself.

''Please don't make fun of me.'' He had nothing left now, all was lost, he was a hopeless little insignificant man in Lady Sybil's life, he should have known..

''No'' she whispered staring at the floor

''It's taken everything I've got to say these things'' Now he had nothing left. Vexed at himself and at the whole stupid, idiotic situation, he placed his hat back onto his head. The hat which tore them both apart, they weren't equal's; far from it. He was such a ...

''You won't hear from me again'' he announced disheartened

Sybil's head shot up and her eye's scanned his clearly broken features, her heart sank. ''What? Why?''

He sighed heavily ''They won't let me stay once they've heard what I've said.'' Or because I'm going to fight.

She seemed confused at his predicament. ''But they won't hear.'' She shook her head. ''Not from me.'' He loved her for that. Though he was to leave anyway, in 3 days, for training. _Tell her. You'll regret it. Tell her. _

''Thankyou'' he gave her a weak smile and passed her her cases. She smiled at him sympathetically and turned away making her way up the stairs, to her new life, without him.

_Tell her you fool! _His brain screamed. _Tell her your going to fight! _

He was making his way back to the car, before his instinct's took over. He had to tell her. Her surveyed the men exercising their torn limbs. You could end up like them wretched men and she'd be none the wiser. He had too!

''Sybil!'' He shouted after her. No reply.

He ran back to the staircase and tried again. ''Sybil!''

Nothing.

He wondered whether it would be indecent for a man to turn up in the ladies quarters and decided that yes, it most definitely would, and he'd taken enough chances today.

Luck abolished and the moment having passed, Branson sulked back to the motor, feeling the lowest he ever had, his only consolation was knowing that it a few days, he'd be away from Downton, from her family, from Sybil herself and most of all away from his own desires.

* * *

Sybil barely made it up the stairs before a flood of tears racked through her entire frame, she mentally kicked herself for being so insolent and just frankly horrible towards a man whom had just proposed to her. Proposed! _Oh Sybil, you stupid women. _

Branson's look of defeat will never escape her memory, how could she act so cold towards him, he was her best friend, save for Gwen, no, the 3 of them were friends, she loved them both dearly, with all of her heart. Just not as Branson had perceived. _Oh Sybil you spoilt child! _She heard footsteps coming from the stairs and quickly wiped away the falling tears and walked absent mindedly into her new room. Luckily it was empty.

She lay down her suitcases and leant her back against them, taking in the smell of leather, was it the motorcars seats or that of Branson's gloves? On that thought another burst of tears escaped her and tears streamed down her face. _Stupid Child! _Her mind blazed, as Branson's word's swan through her memory. _I_ promise_ to devote every waking minute to your happiness. _Another burst of tears eluded her, _You don't deserve him! Not now, not ever. _Her mind yelled, but Sybil already knew that. Not after her cruelness, she hadn't mean't to make fun of him, it was nerves, he made her nervous.

Moment's later the door swung open to reveal Sybil's two room mates, she quickly wiped her eyes and the two girl's introduced themselves.

''Oh hello there, I'm Nancy'' Grinned a tall women, around Sybil's age, with bright blonde hair and shining blue eye's. _Like Tom's. _She mentally kicked herself.

''and I am Alice.'' The other girl smiled, she had dark brown hair, darker than Sybil's and sharp grey eyes.

She conjured up a tight grin, ''I'm Sybil, nice to meet you both.'' The girls replied and went over to empty their belonging's, the two conversed joyfully about what was to happen on the course, and with a deep breathe, Sybil decided to join in the the discussion, not wanting to be unsociable towards her room mates, but deep down she was hurting, mentally hurting, for she had deeply hurt someone today, hurt them good and proper, and she promised herself and Tom right there, that she would never hurt another human being in such a way ever again.

* * *

**2 Weeks Later**

''I won't lie Branson, you have served my family well and I dare say if you are to come unscathed out of this war you will be welcomed back with open arms, my chap.'' Branson smiled. ''Thank-you m'lord. Truly.''

He shook his Lordship's hand before issuing a salute - to which the Earl returned.

He then faced Her Ladyship, whom clearly had tears in her eye's, for some absurd reason. ''Goodbye Branson.'' she gave his shoulder a squeeze. ''And thank-you.'' He nodded towards her and moved down the line, shaking hand's with Bates, who gave him a whisky flask, to which he was most obliged and even O'Brien smiled kindly and bid him good luck. When he arrived at Anna, the letter which had kept him up for the majority of the night was pressed into her hand and she shook it with feeling. ''Stay safe Branson, and come home soon.'' He could see her eye's beginning to glaze over with tears, so he smiled and said ''Don't worry 'bout me miss I'll be just fine.'' She nodded towards the letter, understanding and then he carried on down the line.

When he had shaken everyone's hand's and bid farewell to his Downton family, his General,_ Captain Cairns, _beckoned Branson into a lavish looking auto mobile in which, to his delight, he would not be driving. The car then sped of down the long winding road, away from Downton Abbey.

* * *

**1 Week Later**

Sybil had delved head first into her nursing duties, becoming intrigued at how the body worked, how amazingly clever it was. She had learn't things in the past few weeks, that she would never had imagined learning in the confines of Downton Abbey. She loved being herself with the other trainee's, here she wasn't Lady Sybil Crawley, oh how foolish that sounded now, no, she was plainly Sybil, and that's the way she liked it. She could be herself and was free to discuss anything with anyone, unafraid of anyone listening in or forbidding her to speak of such _nonsense. _As her mother had once put her love for politics one particular evening much to Sybil's demise.

Today they had been examining the human brain, how fascinating it was, with all it's power, without the brain nothing would function, nothing would run right. She couldn't help thinking that when papa had mentioned that Carson _''was the heart and brain of Downton'' _he had been rather correct. They had dissected a sheep's brain, and labelled each significant features, she had been amazed at it's magnitude, how the Frontal lobe controls thing's from thought's and conciousness to speech and coordinated, or how the temporal lobe controls not only your memory of music and sight but also smells. It may be frank but in today night have been the single most exciting day of her life.

She practically skipped up the stairs, humming to a soft tune she had heard as a child, she smiled at other trainee nurses as they descended the stairs, dazed with happiness.

She entered her room and found Nancy reading a copy of Jane Eyre, one which Sybil had never quite got into, but she did the concept of love no-matter-what, as it was portrayed in the novel. Nancy smiled as Sybil entered the room, it was a sly sort of grin, one which Sybil found familiar but to whom she could not place.

''What is it?'' Sybil grinned, excited at the prospect of news. Nancy grinned, ''A letter came for you today. From Yorkshire.'' Sybil rolled her eyes, it was probably another one from mama, concerned as always, asking for details about her training, ones which Sybil never gave, for her mother was faint hearted and would have had to extract some of granny's smelling salts if Sybil had told her everything she'd been up to.

She went over to her small desk, upon it was a single envelope, her name was sprawled across it, in a hand she couldn't quiet register, curious, she ripped open the seal - without the help of a knife, to which she had come accustom - and opened up the contents of the letter. It wasn't very long but It read:

_Sybil, _

_I have been pondering whether to write you this letter for the past few weeks, but I feel it is better for you know from my own words than somebody else's what I have done. You see, I have enlisted into the Army. I am joining the brave men at the front, helping bring down the Hun. Now, please know that our disastrous conversation in York did not spur this on, I enlisted about a week prior to that. The reason for which is simple, I am a proud man, as you are probably aware and I believe that the brave men fighting for there country are heroes and I wish to join them in their conquest for liberty and honour. _

_I don't know when you will receive this letter, I can only pray Anna sends it as I wish. But if you are reading this after the 7th then I will be on my way, or already in France. I can only ask for your forgiveness for not telling you sooner, or moreover, in person. But now you know.  
_

_Remember this, If anything is to happen to me, and god know's it might, I give everything to you, everything. Because, despite my saying this would no doubt cause riot throughout the house of Grantham, I love you Sybil, and it doesn't matter whether you return my love or not, because the truth is I love you more than anything in this world, so, my love, I have decided with or without your consent, that I am going to write to you everyday, every single day I am here, telling you all I have been up too and I only pray that my letters are replied too, however regardless I will continue to voice my doings, sayings and thoughts onto paper for you to read, or not. __  
_

_So, dearest Sybil, I am asking you to write to me, perhaps not daily as I but weekly, monthly, all I ask is to hear what you are doing, what is happening on the other side of the ocean. _

_Thankyou for showing me how to love, yours always and forever, _

_Tom Branson_

A silent tear ran down Sybil's face as she lay the paper back down upon the desk. How could he not have told her. How can you keep a secret like that? He heart felt heavy in her chest and her mouth became dry. Why hadn't he told her... it was her fault, she had asked so brash towards him under the arch way.

She could never forgive herself, no matter what he said, she had sent him off to war with a broken heart. Another tear ran noiselessly down her cheek, landing on the paper and causing the ink to smudge, Sybil quickly wiped at her eye's aware of Nancy's presence.

''Who's it from?'' The other girl asked, now concerned at Sybil sudden change in mood.

Sybil turned in her chair and faced her friend. ''It's from no one important. Just a family friend.'' She pocketed the letter and lay down upon her bed, already planning out what to write as her response.

* * *

**That was a bit longer than expected, sorry if it went on a bit. Well, there was the first chapter, hoped you liked it! Make sure to review! Thannkyouu. xxx**


	2. Bravery

_"If you are going through hell, keep going."- Sir Winston Churchill_

* * *

''Ew's that from?'' Dalton grinned raising his eyebrows and pointing to the letter which Branson now held tightly between his fingers. He smiled at his new found friend. ''From a girl innit?'' the Mancunian chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette before tapping it, causing wisps of excess tobacco to fall limply into the deluge below. Branson sat upon an over turned bucket, his feet half submerged in the thick mud which littered the entire peninsula of their trench, he made no advances to pull them free, it would be a waste of time and precious energy, for this mud was more like quicksand, and only idiot's attempted to scurry their feet free from this trap, Branson knew of countless men, whom had gone for days without boot's due to them being lost whilst attempting to pull them free.

His feet were already littered with countless blister's, which had worsened and grown rapidly over the past few weeks, now forming into puss filled balls, some no bigger than a 2 pence piece, making it difficult to walk. Still, he didn't complain, he'd been lucky.

On their way across the sea, himself and fellow men had been full of the joy's of spring, feeling brave and gallant, going up against the fearful hun. _For king and country! _They had bellowed into the cold crisp air, laughing and singing. Many men thought his would be a cheerful holiday away from home; now, he'd known better than that, for he knew some aspects of warfare, reading countless books and newspaper's. But no amount of knowledge could have readied him for the truth. The first thing he saw was smoke, thick smoke, real smoke, dark and black and haunting, the first thing they heard was artillery fire, it vibrated around the area, slicing at your ear's and branding into your memory.

But the smell. Oh, he could never forget the smell. The putrid aroma engulfed your nostrils causing a nauseating gagging sensation; it was rotting flesh, peeling away from some poor souls body as they decomposed into the bubbling mud below, it was of faeces, rotting faeces, if was of blood, cold blood - warm blood, which poured like an endless fountain over no-man's land, innocent blood, man's blood.

He shuddered at the memory, encasing it back into the deepest part of his mind, locking it away. Dalton nudged his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. ''So?'' the burly man grinned, eyeing the letter, which Branson hadn't had the balls to open yet, knowing exactly what it would say. He smirked, ''So what?''

Dalton threw the blunt cigarette onto a murky puddle below and grunted, ''who's the ruddy letter from?'' Branson shrugged, ''My ma'' he lied, his mother wouldn't dare write to him, for fear of what he may say, but Dalton didn't know that.

The Private looked a little disheartened, ''Ah, ... well, that's nice.'' Branson nodded, kicking at a rat which scurried around his feet. If he had to be honest Branson found the war, the battlefield, this whole sodding situation rather pointless, and now realised, he'd signed up for nothing, signed up to get killed, maimed, blown apart, _bloody fool. _

Dalton stood up, his big feet squelching in the mass of mud. ''It's a tedious morning, nothing ruddy 'apnin.'' His friend truly seemed perplexed at the lack of attacks they had received today, it had quiet frankly been the best day for silence so far, though the lack of artillery fire sent a haunting atmosphere around the trench, putting everyone on edge for a surprised attack, that was their job now, keep guard, look out. Dalton gave a heavy sigh. '''gunna see if I can scrounge some more beans, cumin?'' he grumbled, dragging his bear feet through the deluge. Branson shook his head and Dalton made his way through the trench.

He held the letter in the palm's of his hand. _Just open it. _his thought's screamed, _what's the worst it can say. _With that his mind filled with possible replies of rejection, would she reject him again? Well, she had written as he'd asked, that was hopeful. Throwing caution to the wind, and realising that this was probably the only alone time alone he would receive in this over-crowded trench, Branson ripped open the envelope and spread the neatly written letter out onto his leg. He took a breathe and began to read:

_Dearest Branson (or would you prefer Tom?)_

_You are a noble and brave man, I completely respect your decision to fight in this ungodly war and I pray with every fibre of my being that you come out unscathed. Because Branson if the truth be told, you mean an awful lot to me, and I cannot picture going back to Downton Abbey without you coming to my aide in difficult times, or when I just need realise from the ties of my family. However I am to return to Downton in 2 weeks, must to my demise, without you, however, I will visit our garage each night, like old times and read your newspapers, I shall keep you up to date on the latest happenings of Downton and the outside world.  
_

_I will miss you so much, more than you can imagine, for, I now truly believe that you a the greatest friend I have ever had, no one can replace you. _

_So Branson, continue to write your letters, please. I have received four so far, though I must ask, is the black markings your doing? I hope your letters are not being intercepted, oh dear! However even if this is so, please do not forget to write, I do not care what you say, just pour your feelings onto paper and tell me what is happening, whom you have met, so on and so forth. Because it will fill a gap in my life where you should be. _

_My nursing course is coming to an end shortly - thus my return to Downton - and with help from mama, I have secured a place at the local village hospital, which has no doubt now become an army medical hospital. I cannot wait to test my skills in real life situations and delve into some gruelling and heart wrenching tasks. _

_I hope all is well where ever you are, and please know that I pray for your safety each night and day, I hear Cousin Matthew is in Northern France, are you also? If so you could perhaps become allies, it would surely be a good reminder from home if the two of you were to meet, and it would give myself and Mary some piece of mind. _

_Stay safe my dearest Tom.  
_

_Your friend, _

_Sybil Crawley_

He folded the letter slowly, not wanting to crease the dainty paper too much and pushed it gently into his pocket. It was a kind hearted letter, but he noticed that she had not touched on the fact that he had admitted his love for her, and that did not settle well in the pit of his stomach. However, he knew he was in over his head, she was the daughter of an Earl for Christ sake! He was lucky to even receive a letter from her. That brought a smile to his face.

Branson stood up and trudged through the ungodly muck, heaving his feet from the sticky substance he took shelter in a small man-made space which held army issued writing paper and an assortment of 3 pens, to which each solider looked after dearly. He pocketed the paper and a black fountain pen, before going back out into the cold air and making his way towards a bundle of other soldiers all huddled around each other, all with their guns carefully poised and steady, on full alert, no one spoke as he approached them. He whispered. ''Any new leads?'' The tallest of the 5 shook his head slightly, tapping absent mindedly on the rifle strapped to his chest.

Branson sighed, it felt weird, the silence. Though he relished it, it didn't come often.

Seconds later, the men's peace was shattered, artillery fire pierced through the moist air, they heard their Captain bellowing above the noise, men pushed past him, some lacking helmets and other's more worryingly lacking any source of weapon. He fixed his helmet upon his head, steadied his gun in his shaking hands and followed a huddle of men towards the Captains booming voice.

They reached him within seconds. The burly man looked unfazed by the rapid gun-fire and shot them all a meaningful look.

''Right men!'' he began, shouldering his gun. ''You came to fight for your country and that is what we are going to do!'' Branson gulped back the lump in his throat. No, he signed up for this, there would be no fear inside of him. He would fight.

''So!'' The captain continued, ''Are you ready to defeat the Hun!'' ''Yes Captain!'' he said in unison with around 50 other men.

They made their way towards the edge of the trench, the barbed wire glistened in the mid-day sun, Branson averted his eyes up to the sky, watching a spray of bullets fly past through the empty air.

The captain began yelling to the men whom were stationed upon the machine gun, they obeyed whatever command he had given, for rapid fire sprang into the men's ears, causing their brains to buzz. Branson shook his head, and took a deep breath.

The captain came towards them again and stuck his nose into the sky. ''Right men, prepare your weapons'' Branson positioned his rifle in both hands and held it firm, he cracked his blistered toes and rolled his shoulder muscles loose. ''You will go over the tops in 3.'' He steadied himself and prayed silently for his life to be spared.

''3'' The captain bellowed again, looking anxious. ''2'' he brought his hand up in salute. ''1.''

Without hesitation Branson shot up over the trench, catching himself slightly on the heightened barbed wire. He ignored the souring pain which shot through his leg. Focussing on the problems ahead. Bullets were flying left right and centre, and not only from the enemies fire he new that the officers positioned on his own sides machine gun weren't particularly looking where their bullets were heading.

He flew through the battlefield, bullets whizzing by so fast he could here them shooting past. He held his rifle like the life line of which it was.

German foe were nowhere to be seen, as yet. For that he thanked god.

It wasn't until a few moments later when a man appeared in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere and at the same time a bullet ricocheted through the air the sound of whistling filled Branson deafened ears. This was it.

* * *

Sybil wrapped the thin gauze around Private Wooten's charred leg, he had been trapped between the walls of his trench when a cascade of gas had landed around him. Sybil thought it a miracle he was alive today. She finished of the bandage and pinned the two pieces together, proud of her precise and neat work.

She gave the solider a sweet smile before returning to her other duties. ''Nurse Crawley!'' The head sister whined, beckoning for Sybil to approach her. If wasn't that Sybil disliked the women, oh she could be brutal and mean, dishing out random and inconspicuous punishments for no significant reason but beside all the Sybil knew the women had passion for nursing, for helping those in need, and anyone whom seemed not to grasp this job with both hands and delve straight into the nursing duties with the same amount of integrity and passion would be deemed a failure and dismissed.

''Yes Sister Byron?'' Sybil wondered placing her utensils on the metal cart beside her. Sister Byron was a plump women with light blonde hair and cold blue eyes, her glasses were seemingly always perched upon the bridge of her nose causing her to always look at you from above the thin wire of them.

Branded with authority Sister Byron gave a hefty grunt before continuing, ''Nurse Crawley, I must inform you that tonight is your last night shift for you will be returning home in 3 days.'' Sybil nodded. ''Therefore, I want your quarters tidy by tomorrow, leave none of your belongings behind, we do not return discarded items.''

Sybil gave a small smile.

The elder nurse almost smiled back, but composed herself in time, before coughing briskly and announcing, ''I must thankyou on behalf of the patients and staff for your contribution to the hospital, you have been a great help and we wish you much luck in your, no doubt, bright future.''

''Thankyou Sister Byron, truly, it has been an honour.'' Sybil beamed, she had never accomplished so much in her life. It felt wonderful to know that she had contributed to such a worthy cause, and now, Sybil knew, she longed to become a fully fledged nurse, dedicating her time to help those in need. Her stomach turned in excitement.

The large women nodded before turning around and walking back to her office. Sybil grinned for ear to ear.

* * *

She made her way up to her room hours later, exhausted yet elated by the days events. Sybil let herself into the room. Nancy sat on the edge of her bed staring idly at a picture, it was an old picture singed at the edges and the dull black and white photo had faded. Giving her time alone Sybil slowly closed the door behind her, remembering something.

She made her way towards the mail room - she didn't particularly expect any letter, mama only wrote once a week and she would be home by Friday, so what was you point? Perhaps Mary had some news on Downton to share, Sybil enjoyed reading Mary's letter, unlike her mother she was straight to the point and honest, never holding anything back, that was a trait in Mary that Sybil had envied her entire life. Edith rarely wrote, possibly not seeing the need, Edith preferred to converse, ask people things, talk to them, instead of writing it on paper, she had told Sybil that when they were children, when Sybil had asked what to do when Charles Anderson had made advances towards her. Edith had told her to speak to him, Mary on the contrary had told her to write, announce her love for him.

Sybil laughed at the memory for she did not even deem poor Charles as a peer back then never mind a lover. Oh Mary.

She found her mail slot, 2407 and opened it half-heartedly only doing so to pass the time. However, 3 letters lay before her, at first glance they looked like any other letter, crisp paper and neat handwriting. However, upon further inspection having taken the letter's out of the confined space of the little slot, Sybil could see that these letters had been torn, sliced, obviously previously opened, but by whom she could not say. The writing was slanted and uneven, blotches of ink scattered across the envelope.

Her name was sprawled across the disfigured envelopes in a familiar scribble. Her heat beat rapidly in her chest.

He'd replied.

* * *

**That's number 2! Hope you enjoyed it and sorry the uploading took so long. The next one won't be so lengthy, well it might be, hehe...**

**Reviews are more then welcome! **


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